Romantic Little Stories
by bowie28
Summary: This is just an excuse to post all my silly Hotch/Reid drabbles and ficlets in one place. Slash.
1. Favor

Title: Romantic Little Stories (No Matter What Dr. Reid Said)  
>Author: Bow (<span><strong>bowie28<strong> )  
>Pairing: HotchReid  
>Rating: PG to NC-17<br>Beta: **kuriadalmatia**  
>Warning : fluff, silliness<br>Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plots.  
>Word count: ~2,000<p>

Author Notes: This is just an excuse to post all my silly drabbles and ficlets in one place. I posted a couple of them on richtweet but these are the final versions. Enjoy.

**Favor**

Spencer Reid killed two men in his life. Once to save Aaron Hotchner's life, the other to salvage what was left of his own. It was years later that he realized what was left of himself on that cold Georgian night had never really left Aaron Hotchner's arms. When he mumbled 'I knew you'd understand' into Hotch's warm neck, it was him who _understood_ what it meant to put one's trust in someone else's hands entirely.

So when Aaron pressed him against the sink with their hands still wet from dish washing and said 'Marry me?' like it was ever a question, Spencer could only arch his brows and felt slightly offended because _seriously!_ Spencer Reid had chosen Aaron Hotchner long before Tobias Hankel pulled the trigger in his face three times. He had chosen Aaron Hotchner the minute Hotch had decided to put his life in Reid's hands in that emergency room and started kicking the daylights out of him. That day Aaron Hotchner had chosen Spencer Reid. Every day since was just Reid returning the favor.


	2. Telephone

**Telephone**

Aaron Hotchner was never fond of telephones. He associated them with rootlessness, infidelity, devil deals, and deaths. Most times when he received a call or a text, he expected to feel unworthy by the end of it. He expected no difference tonight as he shifted in his bed and reached in the dark for his vibrating phone. After staring at the name until the blacklight went out he gave in and read the message.

_Can't sleep_

Against his better judgment he typed: _Why?_

_I did sth impulsive and now my bf is being an ass about it_

_Your bf is just being reasonable_

_A reasonable ass_

_Good night_

_Did you know children growing up with pets gain better sense of empathy, self-worth and responsibility?_

_I'm not texting about this_

_But you didn't even hear my side of the story!_

He sighed. _Ok. Let's hear it._

The reply wasn't a text. It was a picture of his six-year-old son holding and kissing a tiny black mutt, their big round eyes staring back at the camera.

He groaned. "This is so unfair."

"You asked for it."

Hotch turned on his back, feeling Spencer's eyes, a part of him already yielding. "How are we going to keep a dog?"

An arm snaked over his torso. Hotch surrendered, drawing Spencer in his arms.

"We'll figure something out." Spencer's breath was warm against his chest.

Hotch closed his eyes, pulling the other man closer. As much as he wanted to argue, Spencer was right. They always figured something out.


	3. Puzzle

**Puzzle **

_(Note: Post the crash in 5x11 'Retaliation')_

Spencer already tucked Jack in, showered, read an entire book, fell asleep and dreamed a very good dream when he felt an arm around his waist. The lips on his nape and now earlobe tickled him and he realized he wasn't dreaming after all. He turned on his back and peered to find the star of his dream looking right at him in the dim light of the room. Those lips were forming a smile, a genuine, open, thankful one; the kind that still baffled him.

"Long night?" Spencer shifted under him.

The reply came in a form of a kiss, a real, breath-taking, oxygen-depriving kiss. It took Spencer a moment to recall what he had asked when Hotch finally answered the question. "Had to go over some details with Prentiss."

Spencer was still getting his breath back when he made an observation, "She didn't want to take sick leave."

Hotch didn't bother with a response. In fact, Hotch didn't bother with the subject at all as his lips found Spencer's neck.

"But you persuaded her." Spencer tried his best to keep his voice steady and _not_ giggle.

"Hence the details I needed to go over before she left," Hotch said before tasting the skin behind Spencer's ear. When a warm, searching hand slid under Spencer's old T-shirt and brushed his nipple, he knew it was no use in pretending. He giggled.

"You're not showered."

Hotch would have had reminded Spencer how that had never stopped them before if he wasn't so determined. No. Desperate. Spencer was tempted to ask Hotch what had had gotten into him, but then Hotch's other hand found its way inside Spencer's shorts. There was nothing coherent came out of Spencer's mouth again that night.

The coffee made everything better, if that was possible after the night like _that_. It wasn't until a figure came into his peripheral vision and wouldn't go away that he looked up from his mug.

Emily had a smug, knowing look on her face and Spencer realized he had forgotten to wipe the stupid smile off his.

Spencer said, "I thought you had a week off."

"I do." Emily looked amused. "I just came by to pick up something I forgot."

"Oh." He sipped his coffee as he watched Emily walk over to her desk. "What did you forget?" It wasn't in his nature to intrude, but it was still early and the look on her face made him a bit jumpy.

"Funny you should ask." Emily grabbed something out of her top drawer. When she revealed it, Spencer gulped.

"You know what's funnier?" Emily walked back to him and leaned against his desk, all the while playing with the object in her hands. "I saw one just like this in Hotch's office yesterday."

The coffee didn't taste so good anymore.

"I asked him about it and he said it was a gift."

Yet Spencer couldn't seem to stop drinking it.

"He didn't say from whom and I didn't ask." Emily's voice changed. It wasn't as amused anymore. Spencer looked up. "So, I told him the story. You know, the one with the young prince trying to put the shattered falling star back together to win the love of his life. The one you said was improbable."

Spencer thought he probably looked like a scared kitten because suddenly Emily looked guilty and a little embarrassed. She pushed herself off of his desk and cleared her throat.

"Anyway, he agreed with me that it was romantic."

Spencer watched Emily put her star puzzle inside her bag. She gave him a small smile, gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and left.

He looked down at his empty mug. He needed another coffee.


	4. Readiness

**Readiness**

There was something about the knocks. The four, equally paused knocks on his door. The patience behind them irritated Reid. Partly because he knew he wasn't capable of it, and partly because they still managed to make his heart race after all this time.

"Agent Hotchner," he greeted his late-night visitor in his most professional tone. The lights from the hallways left shadows on the man's face in the way that reminded Reid of old film noir.

"Agent Reid." The man mirrored his tone. Reid knew it was deliberate but he wasn't going to let the man enjoy it by reacting. So he turned, waiting for the door to click shut.

The refrigerator was a few steps away when he turned around to offer a drink, but Reid found himself paddling backward as his guest invading his personal space. The man reeked of authority—the neatly styled hair, the primly pressed suit. It paralyzed Reid like it always did. A corner of the fridge door dug into his back. Reid could only blink.

"How was your day?" The man's lips were mere inches from his. The breath was warm, intimidating, tickling Reid's skin.

Reid swallowed, silently cursing himself. The dark eyes searched his face, pinned him to the cold hard surface. "My boss was a total pain in my ass today," was his reply.

The face he saw was void of emotions but the man's eyes fell on his lips for a slight second.

"Is that so?" The voice was flat but not sharp. Reid couldn't take his eyes off of the moving lips. "Should I kiss it better, Agent Reid?"

Goose bumps spread over his neck to his ears. Reid grinded his teeth, "I'd rather you fuck it, Agent Hotchner."

The next thing he knew, he was on the kitchen counter, lifting himself on his hands as his slacks were pulled off and gone. His bare ass hardly touched the cold granite when a finger breached him, then two.

"A boy scout, Agent Reid?"

"Never been one," Reid tried his best not to hiss, "but I believe in readiness."

"You and Hamlet." The wrist turned and Reid found it hard to breathe, so he did the one thing he could to regain control.

"_There's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow_," he recited, arching his back as he felt another turn. The smells were overwhelming—the aftershave, the sweat, but most of all his own scent. It was quite embarrassing. He tried not to think about it. "_If it be now, 'tis not to come._" Then there was clanking sound of a belt buckle and fumbling sound of fabric. "_If it be not to come, it will be now._" Reid clasped the toned arm, willing himself to focus. "_If it be not now, yet it will come._"

The man's hands gripped his thighs, yanking his body forward. "Stop saying 'come.' "

Reid wished he could. "_Readiness is all._ Ahh!"

That was the last coherent thought in his brain.

It was rough and not entirely painless. Every other thrust Reid cursed, clinging to the other man tighter, closer, saying things that would probably make Garcia blush. At one point Reid was hauled entirely off the counter, unable do anything but clutch another body, helpless and used. It wasn't until the other man put him down that Reid grabbed the man's shoulders and slammed his hips down hard because he felt he couldn't get close enough. And he did it again and again and again as the other man watched, mesmerized.

It ended so abruptly Reid didn't think to bite down his cry as he ejaculated thick and hard. He wasn't sure what happened next but he heard a hoarse cry. When he opened his eyes, the man's body was hovering motionlessly above him, hands on each side of his head, eyes shut as if in pain.

Reid felt the urge to touch the man's face, to ease that pain, but then he saw his hand touching that face, caressing it. The pain faded, vanished. The dark eyes opened and bored into him. Reid felt ridiculous all of the sudden because one simple look shouldn't make him feel so warm and loved. He had to look away.

"On the kitchen island?" Reid feigned a chuckle. "This can't be sanitary."

The man didn't blink. He saw right through Reid, as always. "Can I kiss you now?"

Reid felt a little giddy as he clasped his hands behind the man's neck. "If only that's an order, Agent Hotchner."

The man cleared his throat. "Agent Reid."

Reid grinned openly now.

"Shut up."

Reid did as he was told and was rewarded with the kiss that made up for all the ones they had missed during their little game.

_(Note: The quote is from _Hamlet_. Act v. Sc. 2)_


	5. Mornings

**Mornings**

_(Note: Written for __capybara_sun__) _

Aaron Hotchner is not a morning person. To be fair, anyone who has worked with him would tell you that Aaron Hotchner is not a morning, noon or night person. Dr. Spencer Reid would silently disagree and smile in to his coffee mug, conjuring the scene two hours before: happy moans above him, shaking thighs under his fingers, the saltiness in the back of his throat, searching hands pulling his arms, warm chest heaving under him, the mouth he kissed and the lips he nibbled, the infectious grin and the accompanying _Good morning_.

Dr. Spencer Reid would not look through the opened blinds of Aaron Hotchner's office windows. Instead he would listen to his colleagues complain about their never-ending paperwork and let them tease him a bit about his supposedly non-existent love life.


End file.
